


Christmas Lights

by Astrophilla, sunshinewinchesters



Series: Destiel Christmas Advent Calendar 2015 [10]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: 25 Days of Christmas, 25 Days of Destiel Christmas, Alternate Universe - High School, Christmas, Destiel Advent Calendar 2015, Friends to Lovers, Love Confessions, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-11
Updated: 2015-12-11
Packaged: 2018-05-06 03:01:39
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,101
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5400446
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Astrophilla/pseuds/Astrophilla, https://archiveofourown.org/users/sunshinewinchesters/pseuds/sunshinewinchesters
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>High school AU: For Christmas this year, all Castiel wants is his best friend back.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Christmas Lights

**Author's Note:**

> Written by Astrophilla  
> Beta'd by sunshinewinchesters
> 
> Type: High school AU, pre Castiel/Dean
> 
>  
> 
> **The tenth installment of our Destiel Advent Calendar!**

Dean Winchester, at 18 years, 2 months and 6 days, 5 foot 11 inches tall with a grin that could brighten up the rainiest days, was Castiel Novak’s best friend, and that would never change. It was a universal truth, something he felt with resounding certainty, deep down at the core of his being. Like an extension of his own flesh and bones, Castiel loved him. 

Ever since the green eyed, gappy toothed child had mowed Castiel down with his bike as he crossed the street, they had been inseparable. Castiel would not forget the heartbreak in six year old Dean’s eyes as he patched up Castiel’s scraped knees, apologizing at a mile a minute. From that summer onwards, they spent every night camped out in the Winchesters’ treehouse, and though it sometimes got a little frigid sleeping outside in the droll Kansas weather, August or not, and their quickly growing limbs made the fit inside a little tight, they made it work. It became an even tighter squeeze when Sam, Dean’s little brother became desperate to join them, but Castiel loved it even so. 

He had found two people he was closer to than anyone, having been practically adopted by the Winchesters over the long summer months, his mostly-absent parents hardly even noticing. Dean was always there to make him feel better, no matter what had him down, and Castiel knew without a doubt that he could tell him anything, could bare his soul and Dean would take it all with a smile.

That was, until around three weeks ago. 

Castiel walked the quarter-mile to the Winchester’s house lost in his own thoughts, the frozen grass crunching under his boots. Dean had been acting strangely for weeks, subtly avoiding any kind of alone time between the two of them with excuses about his heavy workload during lunch, inviting others to join them whenever they went out, dragging Sam along wherever they went together. Dean had tried to play it cool, dismiss it like it was nothing, but Castiel could see what he was doing, and it cut him deeply. He’d tried to speak to Dean about it on several occasions, but he used his younger brother like a shield, dropping Castiel off at the curb outside his house and quickly pulling away with the excuse of getting Sam to gymnastics, or something hockey, or homework club. Castiel always stood and watched as the familiar black Impala drove away, until it was nothing but brakelights in the distance. 

This time, after being dropped off without so much as a “see you around”, Castiel buried himself in his homework, trying to keep his mind off of it, but he was finished before it even hit 7pm. At a loose end, he pulled on a warm coat and scarf, and decided he would make Dean talk to him, whether he wanted to or not.

As he walked up the front yard to the beautifully decorated door of the boy’s house, a trip he’d made thousands of times, he began nervously chewing at his lip. His hand hovered by the doorbell, unsure whether he could bring himself to actually ring it.  
This is Dean, he told himself in admonishment, what are you afraid of? 

And wasn’t that just the million dollar question. With a shake of his head, he pressed the bell and took a step back to wait, eyes trained on the pretty pine cone wreath. The Impala was in the driveway, and Dean hardly ever went anywhere without it. He had to be home.

The door opened, but it was Dean’s mother who answered, and Castiel’s nerves receded a little in the warm face of the woman who’d treated him like a child of her own for as long as he could remember.

“Good evening, Mary,” he said, leaning in to press a kiss to her cheek. 

“Castiel!” she smiled, but it was tight and uncomfortable, and like that, Castiel was on edge once again. 

“Is Dean at home?” he asked hesitantly, throwing a pointed look over his shoulder at the sleek black car parked beside the house. 

“Oh,” she trailed off, straightening the hem of her apron. He could smell the cookies from the doorway, but the usually delicious aroma made his stomach turn. “Did he not tell you? He’s at a study group.”

“A study group?” Castiel asked, eyes narrowing in suspicion. “With who?” 

“I’m not sure, a girl named Ruby and some of her friends, I think he said. Would you like to come in?” she asked, pity in her eyes. “You’re welcome to stay for dinner, it’s nearly ready.”

Castiel shook his head, backing away. “No. Thank you. Enjoy the rest of your night, Mary.”

He turned and walked back down to the street hastily before he could hear her response, desperate to get away. Dean was with Ruby’s gang. “Studying”. What on Earth was he doing, and why hadn’t he said anything about it to Castiel? He glared unseeingly at the path ahead of him as he forced himself to walk calmly, when everything in him wanted to break out into a run. 

He’d probably slip and fall on the icy streets anyway, and that would just be added insult to injury that his pride didn’t need.

The usually short walk between their houses felt like a marathon, and by the time Castiel was unlocking his front door, shucking his boots and coat, and climbing upstairs to collapse in his bed, he was exhausted. He lay there atop the sheets, fully dressed in the darkness of the empty house, unable to sleep. 

Dean had blown him off for Ruby. The troubled rich kids who smoked in the corridors, and shot lines in the back of their cars in the parking lot. The type of pathetic people they used to joke about. What the hell was Dean doing with them? 

Castiel was struck with a harrowing thought that had him feeling around in the dark for his phone and dialing Dean’s number. Maybe he was in trouble, maybe he’d done something stupid but was too proud to ask Castiel for help. 

The call rang twice, and then rang off to voicemail. 

Castiel blinked down at the screen, worry gnawing at his chest. Dean always answered his phone, no matter what. Anxiously, he redialed. This time, Dean picked up after the fourth ring, but Castiel could barely hear him over the blare of music in the background.

“Yeah?” 

“Dean, are you okay?” Castiel asked, sitting up. “Where are you?”

“I’m busy. I’ll call you later,” Dean said over the music, and then the call cut off. 

Castiel stared at the phone in his hands like it had reached out and slapped him. Dean was busy. 

He stayed awake, tossing and turning throughout the night, hoping that maybe Dean would call him back. He didn’t, of course, but that didn’t stop Castiel from foolishly hoping. The next day, Dean managed to avoid him right up until the end of last period, when their paths intersected in the frozen parking lot. Castiel had to power walk to catch up to him, a little scared he was going to slip and fall on the ungritted lot, but the risk paid out and he made it before Dean disappeared, grabbing his shoulder.

“Oh, hey, Cas,” Dean said, forcing a smile. “What’s up?”

Castiel hated that devil-may-care smirk, especially when it was directed at him. “Can we talk?” he asked, dropping his gloved hand back to his side.

Dean looked around him, before his eyes landed on the duffle he was holding. “Can’t right now, I, uh, I’ve got practise. Later, maybe?” 

“Oh. Right.” Castiel shivered, holding his collar tightly closed as a sharp gust of wind cut its way through him. 

“Yeah,” he said, turning away. “Gotta go, I’ll catch you around.” 

With that, Dean jogged up to the football field, leaving Castiel alone in the parking lot. The pointed lack of invitation to go watch him wasn’t missed—Castiel and Sam always gone with him to practise, even though everyone knew Castiel couldn’t care less about sport. 

Dean didn’t want him there? Fine. He would get the bus home. 

He angrily stomped towards the main road, hoping to catch a bus before he froze to death in the December weather. It was nearly dark now, all the streetlights coming on around him as he stormily went to cross the road.

“Cas!” a voice called out behind him, and with a weary sigh, he turned towards it. “Where are you going?” 

He blinked down at the shorter boy, wrapped up tightly in a bright red scarf. He couldn’t bear to talk to him, not right now. “Home, Sam.”

The boy’s face fell, and he frowned up at Castiel in bemusement. “Aren’t you coming to watch Dean play?”

“No,” he shook his head, and, in the first show of good luck he’d had for weeks, the crosswalk light changed. “Bye, Sam.” 

Castiel just made it to the bus stop in time to catch the last bus, and sat alone on the journey home, empty and cold. He had no idea how it had happened, but he was certain that he was losing his best friend. Despite his best efforts, there seemed to be nothing he could do to stop it.

Like usual, the house was dark inside when he arrived home, just as he was expecting. His mother loved to keep up the facade that her excessive Christmas decorations outside created, but they were far from the perfect, apple pie family. Between his parents’ rigorous academic jobs and the age gap between himself and his siblings, he seemed to be the only one home anymore. A lot of the time, he was grateful for the space, but as he searched through the cupboards for some sort of tinned soup to heat up and eat alone in the empty living room, he couldn’t help but feel desperately alone. 

After his mediocre dinner, Castiel grabbed his bag from where he’d left it beside the door and headed up to his bedroom to bury himself in school work. He was sorting through his books, and pulling his phone from a pocket to charge when he realized he had an unread message from Dean. His brows furrowed as he opened it. Dean never sent him texts—he knew better than anyone how much Castiel hated using his phone, so would always call him if they needed to talk. The message consisted of a single line, and as Castiel read it, his heart sank.

_Meet me at the treehouse at 8 if you’re not busy._

When he left his house, he was furious, warmed by his hot, indignant, rage. How dare Dean throw him away like he was worth nothing? By the time the Winchester’s back yard came into sight, though, the low twinkling of the fairy lights in the treehouse’s windows cutting through the darkness, it sapped away from him like the plug pulled from an overflowing sink, and all he was left with was a hollow sadness. He was about to lose the person who meant the most to him in the world, and he had no idea what he was going to do without him.

Castiel reached the bottom of the tree, and stared up at the treehouse for a moment, taking it in. He’d been here so many times before, the two of them living in it like a second home in the warmer months. That might be the last time he would ever be invited inside. With a thick swallow, he climbed his way up, fingers frozen on the rungs of the ladder, and pulled himself inside. 

Dean was already there, wrapped up in blankets on the old futon John had helped them drag up there one summer. It took up most of the space inside, but it was better than sitting on the wooden floor, and as kids, it had been the greatest thing ever. Now it was just another symbol of everything he was in danger of losing.

“Hey,” Dean said, crossing his legs. 

Castiel nodded, coming to sit beside him. “Hey.”

They sat there in silence for a while, Castiel’s eyes losing focus and blurring as he stared hard at the shimmering lights above them. He smiled despite himself; Mary put as much time and effort in decorating the little house as she had when they were kids. 

“I’m scared, Cas,” Dean spoke up as the moments dragged on, his voice small.

Castiel turned to look at him, face falling. “Of what, Ruby’s gang? Are you in trouble?”

“What? Naw, course not,” he chuckled lowly, shaking his head, “they’re a harmless bunch of misguided daddy-issue trustfund kids. I kinda pity them, they were just… a distraction.” 

“From what?” Castiel asked. “What are you afraid of?” 

“Everything. Of… of you going to some crazy ivy league and forgetting me, or worse, you hanging around and wasting your life on—” Dean shook his head, turning away to stare at the lights and strings of paper chains adorning the wooden ceiling. “I’m terrified I’m gonna do something stupid and wreck everything.” 

Castiel frowned. “What are you talking about?” 

“I’ve been studying like crazy, Cas, but we both know I’m not getting into the U. I’ll be lucky if I even get a place in a community college.” 

“What?” Castiel asked, brows furrowed. “Dean—”

“No, let me get this out,” he said, cutting Castiel off. “I’m not, and you know it. I’m not book smart the way you are, Cas. You’re gonna get into all the awesome colleges you applied for, and I’m not gonna end up anywhere. There’s no way I’m gonna hold you back.” 

“You’ve never held me back,” Castiel said, confused. “What’s going on?”

“I don’t know, Cas,” he said, letting out a heavy breath. “All I know is that I’m fucking terrified.”

Castiel shook himself from his shocked stupor, shuffling closer to the boy shivering beside him, and taking his hand from where it clenched tightly at the worn blanket. “Dean,” he said, squeezing his fingers. “Dean, listen to me.”

Dean lifted his head, desperately trying to blink away the wetness in his eyes, and it broke Castiel’s heart. He’d been so mad at him, so furious, and all along...

“You’re my best friend, Dean. I can hardly function without you, there’s no chance I’d ever move away and forget that I’ve left my better half back in Kansas,” he smiled sadly. “It doesn’t matter where either of us end up, in whatever college, or whatever state. There are a lot of things to be scared about in the world, but I swear to you, me leaving you is not ever going to be one of them. You’re my everything.”

The words hung in the air between them, almost tangible in the silence, and suddenly, in a flail of limbs and blankets, Dean was right there, practically on top of him.

Dean was kissing him. 

Soft, warm mouth was moving against his, slick and sweet, a wet tongue darting out to brush along his lower lip, and Castiel was sure his brain had short-circuited, because all he could do was sit there, mouth slightly agape, as Dean’s lips brushed his own. 

Dean was _kissing_ him. Dean. All this time...

Fingers wound their way into his hair tightly, like he was terrified to let go, and God, Castiel could have died happy right in that moment, he just needed his limbs to listen to him and _move_ , but then Dean was tearing himself away, darting as far back as the small futon would allow him.

His chest heaved for breath, and Castiel’s raced in sync. “Fuck, oh god, I’m so sorry, Cas, I knew I shouldn’t have—”

Castiel barely heard him. He was frozen, waiting for his body to reboot. And when it did, all he could do was tip his head back in a loud, gleeful laugh. 

Dean stopped, staring at him like he’d gone insane, but Castiel couldn’t have cared less.

“That’s what you were afraid of?” he grinned, crawling across the lumpy futon mattress to him.

Dean watched with wide eyes. “I didn’t—I wasn’t sure—”

“You idiot,” Castiel beamed, grabbing Dean’s face in his hands and bringing their lips back together, and this time, he was definitely participating. When Dean’s tongue pushed its way into his mouth, dancing with his own and stroking gently at the roof of his mouth, Castiel’s heart nearly gave out. There was a little too much clashing of teeth in their desperation to get closer, and he was sure he’d have marks and bruises on him from Dean’s frantic hands, but Castiel couldn’t find it within him to care. It was absolutely perfect. 

Later, much later, when they finally broke apart, when the air around them was frigid with the night’s frost and they had to bundle up together under all of the blankets, Castiel found his head resting on Dean’s shoulder, his arm circled around his middle as they basked in the warm glow of the twinkling fairy lights.

“You’ll stay with us for the holidays, right?” Dean asked him, his face buried in Castiel’s hair. “You’re all I want for Christmas.” 

Castiel chuckled, arm wrapping tighter around Dean’s waist. “I’d love to.”

“Good. Mom would be heartbroken if you didn’t, she’s already started planning the wedding,” Dean snorted, and Castiel could practically see the eye roll.

He raised his head slightly from Dean’s shoulder to meet his eyebrows raised. “She knows?”

“I think she always has,” Dean shrugged, threading the fingers of their free hands together. 

Castiel laughed, collapsing back onto Dean, and snuggling in closer. “Would have been nice of her to tell us.”

“Oh well,” Dean said, pressing his lips to Castiel’s forehead. “We found out by ourselves, eventually.” 

The following summer, as everyone but himself knew he would, Dean got into the University of Kansas’ engineering department on merit of academic excellence, joining Castiel, who had received a full ride from the college’s theological board. 

Mary’s wedding plans weren’t actually needed until six years later, but, as she’d always been certain they would be, they were needed in the end. She was so happy about the announcement of their engagement that Castiel and Dean decided to let her run wild on the arrangements, hardly caring about the difference between lilies and roses, silver or gold, inside or outside anyway, so long as they were together. 

Castiel’s only request was that there be lots, and lots of fairy lights.


End file.
